//------------------------------//
// Lo Stallone Dei Rifiuti 
// Story: Ombra della Lama 
// by Vedavyasa 
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I spent only a little time in the village Verita had taken me too. She explained to me that there was a second guild of Assassins I had no knowledge of, ruled by Princess Luna. This was the original guild from which my guild formed. There was also a third guild, the Tempests. The Tempests were formed by the enemies of the Assassins as well as disertori, and for a time they simply grew and harassed both of the Assassins guilds. However, Celestia’s guild continued to decline in numbers and in time the Tempests came under her control.

These Tempests would now be after Verita and I. We were both criminals, wanted for murder. Knowing the Princess as I did, I expected her to also charge both of us with other crimes ranging from thievery to assault upon a government official. There was no place in Equestria for me, and so I felt I needed to leave. An excuse for this was given to me in the form a letter, delivered to me by a small foal. This letter was from a chieftain I had met in my training, far in the Northern wastes. 

In this letter, it was revealed to me that one of my many small clans was planning for war. The chieftain had begun gathering every tribe that would answer his calling, and subjugating several that refused to aid him. He had taken to calling himself a king, and within a year he would have enough warriors to truly claim the title. 

My presence was requested, in hopes of preventing this. In most circumstances I would declined this invitation, but I felt this to be a rare blessing from the fates. I took my leave of Verita, and I began the long journey.

I made haste to the border of Equestria, but from the time I left my native lands I simply walked. I spent several months travelling through lands I had last seen during my youth. I stopped often in villages and towns, helping in small ways in exchange for provisions and information. Armed as I was, I was often called upon to kill or drive away bandits. Such work was quite simple, and I soon developed a reputation. I became known as Hvítur Dauði, the White Death. When I finally reached the tundra of the Northern Tribes, my presence alone was sufficient to guarantee a towns safety. 

In the Wastes however, such a luxury was not to be mine. The Northern Tribes are a very proud people, attempting to gain leverage with my reputation would only be met with challenges. In order to reach my destination safely and without bloodshed, I would need to avoid any settlements. Such was a simple task; I had been trained specifically for such things. I travelled exclusively by day, my robe blending with the snow and the suns glare making it difficult to see. A sharp set of eyes could have noticed my sword, or my hidden blade, but I was still nearly invisible. 

This brings me to the hermit who taught me to harness electricity as a weapon. I was searching for a place to rest for night when I discovered a small cave. I entered this cave, alert to any threats. I did not expect to hear movement behind me. I turned to find a very old pegasus sitting calmly on a small black thundercloud, hoof ready to send a lightning bolt in to my chest. Feeling I had little choice, I laid on my knees, surrendering myself to him.

To my surprise, the old stallion laughed. I stared at him, unsure of what to make of the old pegasus. He cackled like a mad thing for several minutes, leaving me to remain on the ground. In time, he calmed himself and informed me that I was intruding in his home. He expressed respect for my surrender, claiming that such sensible actions were rare to see. Dispelling his small cloud, he bade me to rise and introduce myself. In short matter, I learned that his name was Swift Wing. He had once been a Royal Messenger, but in his retirement he wished to seclude himself. He found himself traveling for many years until he found the small cave he had decided to remain in, content with a meagre but peaceful life in the barren cold of the Wastes.

In turn, I explained who I was. He was shocked to discover that I was an Assassin, more so when I told him that I had broken a vow of blood to the Princess. When I explained my reasons for coming to the Wastes, he offered to help me. He did not wish to see his peaceful home disturbed by war. I remained with him for several days, studying his methods of creating clouds and controlling them. As well as control of electricity, his methods of controlling water were wondrous. He taught me only little of what he knew, as it would have taken years for me to learn all. When I left, I had gained the skill of imprisoning electricity in any piece of metal as well as controlling the temperature of the moisture in the air around me. Both skills have served me well over the years.

From his cave, it was only a short journey to the hall of the chieftain who had called me. I arrived to much fanfare and celebration, hailed as the solution to their problem. Such adoration made me uncomfortable, but it is best not to complain when your host is overly kind. After a night of feasting, the chieftain explained the situation in greater detail. It was made clear to me that the self proclaimed King of the North must die for the benefit of all.

The next morning, I prepared to begin my mission. It would be a long path, but such is the joy of the hunt.





Translations


Lo Stallone Dei Rifiuti = The Stallion Of The Wastes

Hvítur Dauði = White Death